


held together (with magic and glue)

by astralcities



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Families of Choice, Gen, POV Second Person, discovering you actually give a shit about what happens to your five foot nothing magical boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 05:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15453999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralcities/pseuds/astralcities
Summary: You think,shit, maybe this mentoring shtick isn’t so bad.





	held together (with magic and glue)

As far as you can remember, you've never been great with kids. They're sticky and loud and like to dig their hands in things that don't belong to them (which, admittedly, is something you do too, but that's not particularly relevant). Kids don't appreciate the fine craft of anise snap cookies, and run up to you after shows and beg for chocolate chip instead.

Sure, most of the time you'd oblige, but regardless. Children... Not your area of expertise. You leave the nurturing schtick up to Magnus, who doesn't have a history of throwing brats off speeding trains.

All of which is why it's more than a little unusual for you to spend your valuable Tuesday evening instructing one in the ways of magic.

When the battered cat clock on your wall strikes one (you've got a strict 'not until I've had ample chance to sleep in' rule), Angus bursts through your front door. His hair's an absolute disaster, and, for once, he's forgotten to wear his full fancy boy ensemble. Luckily— or maybe unluckily, you're really starting to miss your afternoon free time— he's remembered his dinky neon star-tipped wand, currently perched upon a stack what looks like thirty pounds of books and loose-leaf paper that he's performing an admittedly impressive balancing act to keep from toppling.

A follow up to last week's admittedly overboard monologue starts formulating, but you silence it with a lazy smirk and a loose gesture towards your still open front door. Angus hurries to elbow it shut. The second it closes, he drops his supplies eagerly on your cleared out living room floor, and plops down right beside the stack, looking up at you with the most disgustingly sincere, cheesiest grin you've ever seen.

It's a little sweet, but you don't say that either.

You don't move to sit with him— you've got a persona to keep up, after all. He doesn't seem too perturbed. Actually, after that little Fantasy Shirley Temple stunt, he’s ignoring you a little. Flicking through papers with the expertise of the three-hundred-year-old librarian that shambles through the dusty Bureau library, he turns several brick-sized books to their opening chapter. Knowing him, he's probably read them cover to cover already, the goddamned nerd.

Angus performs an odd little shuffling maneuver and rolls his shoulders. "Ready for magic day, sir?" he asks, and doesn't wait for your response. "I think I'm really starting to get this down. I've done all sorts of research on _Ray of Frost_ , and I think it'll be really helpful for—“

Gods above, sometimes, you wonder if he knows how to do everything but _relax_  once in a while. "How about," you say, and slouch against the wall, "we try _Mage Hand_  again."

"It's still got only one finger, sir. And last time we had to stab it. With a fork."

"Give me five, kiddo," you drawl, and your heart lurches a little oddly at the disappointment playing clearly across his face. That's... New. You're not particularly sure when the kid's feelings started _mattering_  to you, but boy oh boy, something will have to be done about it.

...Eventually.

Maybe not today, though. It's magic day.

While you're having that little realization, Angus toys with his knock-off wand. "Like, literally, sir? I mean, I'm not so bad at learning, I'd like to think, but that's a pretty big jump."

The things you do for this kid, _ye gods._

With a patented Taako sigh and eye-roll, you crouch to his level, and rest one hand on your knee, and hold one up in the air, like you're about to take an oath.

His eyes light up, and for a whiz detective or whatever, he sure is easy to read. Everything about him brims with excitement and anticipation, and a little worry, too, because Angus wouldn't be Angus without the qualities that make him far more responsible than the adults he's currently chosen to hang around. He scoots a tad closer to you, then sucks a deep breath in through his teeth. Maybe it's your imagination, but you think you see one of them wiggle.

You wait, teetering on your heels.

Nothing.

Though Angus furrows his brow tightly, and you mentally map where the nearest sharp object is, it doesn't look like he can even muster up last week's deformed monstrosity of a hand.

After a few disappointing moments of silence, you're about to let your palm drop to rest on your hip where it belongs when something blue shoots from Angus's palm.

Twirling in a steady stream from the center of his hand, a tendril of translucent, weak blue energy starts to take form. Angus, for all his self-proclaimed professionalism, beams so wide it threatens to spill across his face, brown eyes wide with excitement. "Look!" he gasps, and something pulls taut in your heart.

"Hush," you murmur, and muster up a sly grin. "Not 'til it's got fingers, genius."

If this were Magnus, you'd toe one of those insufferably big books shut, and throw a barb. But Magnus, as much as you mock him for squealing at puppies and buying candy at _every_  stall in the market, is a grown adult, at least in human terms.

Angus is only ten.

The thought shouldn't come as a shock to you, not really, but _fuck_ , he's really only ten, isn't he? You know that humans double, triple his age are still children compared to you, but Angus, a baby even by human standards. A _child_ , determined to learn magic and wield a crossbow to defend himself, to chase down serial killers and thieves and grown criminals who could do far, far worse than toss him off a train. Sure, your own childhood wasn't exactly healthy, but you know that this isn't normal either, and fuck if you'll let this brat dig around caravans for food.

Suddenly, and a little unpleasantly, you're overwhelmed by this alien, paternal urge to just scoop him up and tear down the Bureau's campus with him in your arms.

When you've got that shoved away (because, no thank you, not today, you're great) you wonder, not for the first time, what the hell the Director was thinking-- hiring a failed chef, a burnout rebellion leader, a grungy old man, and a literal infant for her world-saving mission.

But, hey. You have better things to concern yourself with than the whims of an old woman on a fake moon.

The growing blue blob of gelatinous energy sways then stutters, and both you and the kid perched anxiously across from you hold your breath. Then, it sprouts one— no, _two_ , three— _five_  whole spindly fingers, twitching like some sort of Frankenstein's monster. Angus lets out a whoop, and even you, master of being disaffected, smile a little.

"Well, hot fucking damn, pumpkin," you remark, tone brimming with pride. "You did it."

"Hell yeah!" Angus exclaims, eyes bright, and you snort. Gods, that's precious. He flexes his fingers, and both of you watch as his successfully cast Mage Hand echoes the movement.

Then, it slaps up against your open palm with a resounding _smack._

Angus cackles when you prop an arm against the carpet to pull yourself to your feet, and offers a hand. Literally. The misshapen blue fingers waggle, and though you stick your tongue out at him, you grab on and haul yourself up.

"Well," you say, and brush at some imaginary dust on your shoulder. "I'd consider that a success, huh?"

He grins up at you, and again, that odd protective surge springs up despite your best efforts. "You would?" he needles, and you elbow him as you stride by.

Damn kid. You really _are_  a bad influence; he's picked up your compliment-fishing spirit already.

You tutt. "Don't get too confident, boy-o. We _did_  have to stab your last one to death."

He laughs, and yeah, that tooth is definitely going to have to come out soon. You sidestep the piles of shoved aside laundry and magazines you've moved to make room for tonight's little lesson, and fish through the glass fruit bowl resting on your kitchen counter.

"Snack break," you call, and toss a lightly bruised apple in the vague direction of the _Mage Hand_ still trailing Angus. Without hesitation, the blue fingers curl around the bounty. Though it shouldn't be possible, Angus looks even more excited at this, eyes widening behind those big crooked frames he always wears. Are they even necessary for him to see? You squint at them. You think they might just be for the look.

"Snack break. The most important part of any study sesh," he recites back, and you lean over to fistbump his real human hand, this time. When your knuckles meet, you both pull back and waggle your fingers. Angus's little creation does too, and even though you're supposed to have cat-like reflexes, and Angus is like, _right there_ , the apple falls to the tile floor of your kitchen before either of you can snatch it back up.

"Shit, here," you shrug and toss him another. He catches it deftly, and you whistle encouragingly. "This too," you add, and aim a second in his direction.

"Hey!"

"Merle's botany habits are out of control," you explain, lobbing another, as if it offers any real explanation at all, and Angus snorts.

As he's adjusting his new armful, you throw a fourth, and a fifth, until Angus's real and fake hands are full, and he's nearly collapsing from the balancing act he has to perform, and the absurd amount he's giggling, so raucous it seems like it threatens to burst from his chest. You feel whatever it was that pulled taut earlier spring back into position.

He’s got this.

" _Taako_ ," he whines through bursts of laughter. "Is this part of magic day training?"

"Fuck if I know, little man," you rib. "Summon some more _Mage Hands_  and find out."

As far as you can remember, you've never been great with kids.

But _shit_ , you think, _maybe this mentoring shtick isn't so bad._

 

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment if you enjoyed this!! if it gets feedback I'll definitely add more chapters. tysm for reading !!


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